


A Good Thing

by nonners



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 17:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9502217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonners/pseuds/nonners
Summary: The evolution of a leader and a relationship, under the Blight. DA Challenge Fill, written 4.1.2010.





	

1.

Orzammar is exactly like Natia Brosca remembers.

This is not a good thing.

From the first confrontation outside the gates (and Brosca had almost forgotten how it felt to be called _brand_ , to be treated as if she was worth less than the mud they track in as they enter the stone hallway) to the double-take-and-glare combination everyone seems to take when they see her, she's about ready to call it quits and leave, sodding Blight or no. But no, there's that wretched _duty_ hanging over her head like an axe, and that whole "fate of the world" thing, and she finds herself taking step after unwilling step into the city she used to call home.

This is why she put off the Dwarven treaties for as long as possible. She knew, deep down, that this would happen.

And she can't believe that she thought that things would be different (because she's not casteless anymore, she's the _Warden_ now, a title that the dwarves have always respected) but the shopkeepers still act affronted when she dares speak to them, and the waitress at Tapster's almost throws her out on sight, and everything is the same. _Exactly_ the same.

She finds out a few hours later how wrong that statement is.

Orzammar may be as unchanging as the stone it is made of, but Dust Town, strangely enough, is nearly unrecognizable. They're attacked the moment they enter, and while Natia wasn't expecting a welcome-home party, they should have at least recognized the brand on her cheek – or registered the daggers by her side. Her mother's house is empty, with nothing but a pile of bottles to signify that anyone had ever lived there. The neighbors – after the usual bribes – tell her that Rica's moved up-city and taken Mother with her.

And that's not the only thing that's changed. Jarvia has taken over the carta, and Leske is nowhere to be found. Natia is hard-pressed not to remember the Guardian's words, and the fear they sent to the pit of her stomach – but Leske is nothing if not resourceful, he has to be all right. He must be hiding, or running, but he isn't dead. He can't be.

Natia finds out quickly that while Rica is safe, sitting pretty in the Diamond Quarter with a royal son in the crib and gems sparkling around her throat, Leske is not. She finds him in the bowels of Jarvia's hideout, and he laughs at her, laughs at the thought that their years spent together should mean _anything_ , least of all any kind of loyalty.

"I wouldn't have betrayed you, Leske," she says resignedly, looking straight at him. His expression is as blank as the stone above him.

Then he smiles, a nasty, mocking excuse for a grin, and laughs. "Liar."

Leske dies laughing, and Natia dies a little inside.

When Alistair asks her later if her homecoming was what she expected, with a small laugh and a sarcastic edge, she glares at him stonily and tells him to shut up. Because even though Dust Town has changed (even more since she first stepped foot in Orzammar), the alterations are superficial. Mother is still a hopeless, bitter drunk, jealous of her daughters for attempting to better their lives. Rica is safe – but since the wife of Bhelen Aeducan must be of noble blood, she will ever remain a whore.

And Leske, in his final moments, was right all along.

2.

By the time the Wardens leave Orzammar for the Deep Roads to find Paragon Branka, Brosca is about ready to hit Alistair over the head and leave him in the nearest ditch. The fool just won't _shut up_ \- he has something to say about everything, and it's rarely nice. He seems to have a backhanded compliment for everything and everyone in the city, and when Natia calls him on it, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, the idiot has the utter gall to act like he doesn't know what she's talking about.

So when Oghren, Branka's disgrace of a husband, asks to join their quest, she has only one question for him.

"Can you keep quiet?"

Oghren barks a laugh, and they leave for Caridin's Cross the next morning.

3.

Brosca had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of other dwarves. With the addition of Oghren, the tension that's built since the Joining lessens. It helps greatly that Alistair is blessedly quiet – one profanity-filled conversation with Oghren later, and he suddenly seems less keen on opening his mouth.

He reminds her of Leske, for a short, painful moment, with insults coming out of his mouth left and right, but Natia _can't think about that right now_ , or else she will fall apart, here, in the middle of the Deep Roads.

But then he catches her gaze and shrugs, in a completely un-Leske like way, and that pain subsides.

As the silence settles in, unbroken by the Alistair's usual snarky dialogue, Brosca decides to get to know Oghren better.

4.

They camp outside the Anvil of the Void when it's all over, Caridin's crown weighing heavily in Natia's pack. The rest of the party sets to healing residual wounds and cleaning armor and weapons

Oghren sits in silence by the fire, uncharacteristically somber. And uncharacteristically sober. So Natia scrounges up two of the fancy bottles of brandy she managed to liberate along with Redcliffe and heads over.

"You look like you need a drink." She says, holding out one of the bottles.

Oghren snorts. "I always need a drink."

A quarter of a bottle later (almost all of a bottle for Oghren), and Oghren laughs, a bitter sound. "Didn't think Branka'd… what she did was…"

Natia smiles grimly. "I know how it feels, you know."

"What?"

"To have someone you loved betray you."

Oghren says nothing, and they sit in silence, watching the fire burn down to embers.

5.

With Bhelen seated on the throne, and Rica's (and the nephew she has yet to meet) future secure, a load is lifted off Brosca's shoulders. Somehow, the dangers of the Blight seem less pressing – nights are spent drinking and laughing at camp, and as the end draws nearer, everyone seems to come to the same conclusion – we can do this, we can actually win.

Natia spends most of her time drinking with Oghren, choosing to ignore most everyone else. It's not that she doesn't like the other members of their little band – they just don't seem to understand her. At all.

The humans (well, Alistair and Leliana. Morrigan thankfully keeps to herself) ask probing questions about every aspect of her life, trying to "get to know" her better. But they can't know. They can't possibly know what it was like.

The problems in their lives are recent – they haven't had to live their entire lives in the slums, fighting for scraps of food and begging for coins, with only the options of whore or gang enforcer to look forward to. They haven't had to live in a society that refuses to acknowledge even their birth, so focused on the crimes of distant ancestors that they purposely ignore the suffering in front of them.

Oghren may have been in the Warrior Caste, but he knows what it's like to be Casteless in Orzammar. He's slummed enough to see how they live – how they're treated, even though he had lived above them. And stripped of his weapons, stripped of his identity, stripped of his purpose – when they met him in Orzammar, he might as well have been a brand.

And because he knows, he doesn't feel the need to ask about it. With so many people demanding Natia's attention, asking her to go here, and do that, and _solve my personal problems, Warden_ , it's nice to be able to just sit in front of the fire, ale in hand, and talk about normal – non-Blight related things. This is the way she's always wanted it to be. No personal questions, no confessions or life stories – just the easy, bawdy conversation that she used to have with Leske before…

Well.

But Oghren is not Leske. He's louder, rougher, and drinks a _lot_ more than Leske ever did. And yet, he seems to put her at ease in a way Leske never could. With Leske, Natia had to be careful about what she said – they had been friends, but the concept of friendship in Dust Town was poorly defined, forgotten at the first opportunity.

And that's it exactly. He's her friend. She doesn't have to censor herself around him. Not like Alistair, or Leliana, who alternately look uncomfortable and horrified whenever Natia talks about Dust Town, or her ungentle upbringing. He takes her as she is.

She mentions it, one night, when they're changing watch, and he laughs, nearly loud enough to wake the whole camp. "What can I say, Warden? Don't worry about those nug-humpers. I got your back."

And for the first time in her life, Natia knows what's its like to have someone who truly _gets_ her. She doesn't have to watch what she says, or lie about what her life has been like. She can be herself.

It's a good feeling.

6.

When Oghren asks Brosca to help him look up an old flame, something wells up in the pit of her stomach, a strange sinking feeling unlike any she's even felt. She agrees to help, naturally, because after all, what are friends for? But something doesn't sit right, and there's a strange tensing in her throat whenever Oghren mentions it.

When they finally find out and travel to where this Felsi works, in a tavern on Lake Calenhad, Natia turns to Oghren. "Are you read to do this?"

Strangely, Oghren pauses, giving Natia a long, searching look. "Eh, you know what? Let's go."

Natia blinks. Oghren turns and starts walking.

She follows. "Oghren, what about the girl? Aren't you going to –"

Oghren waves his hand dismissively, "Eh, she was crazy anyway."

She shoots him a look. "But you like crazy women."

Oghren grins. "Aye. But I think my tastes might be changing. Must be all that surface air."

Natia grins. "Want to get a drink?"

Oghren rounds the corner, and Brosca can barely make out the last thing he says before following him . "As long as it's not here."

7.

The end comes too soon, and the time seems to fly. One moment, they're at Redcliffe, and Natia's convincing Alistair to sleep with a woman he hates.

The next, they're headed to Denerim.

At the gates, Natia turns to Oghren. "I need you to lead the men down here. Keep the gates clear."

"By the Stone, Brosca," Oghren snarls, "I'm not going to let you go up there by yourself!"

Natia's eyes flash. "You've commanded men before, I _need_ you here."

And there's nothing Oghren can say, because he knows she's right. So he looks down at the ground, frowning.

"Just… don't die on me, Warden. You got a lot of living to do yet."

8.

Alistair's coronation is long, and boring, and Brosca sighs happily when she's finally allowed to mingle with the crowd. It's the first time she's been able to relax since she killed the Archdemon, and by the Ancestors, she's going to take advantage of it. There's only one person she wants to talk to, anyway.

Oghren's drunk, as usual, but he grins when Natia approaches and pats the seat next to him. He starts to talk before she settles in. "They offered me a job in the army here, you know.

Natia gratefully accepts the drink offered to her by a passing servant. "They did? What did you say?"

Oghren barks a laugh and takes another swig. "I told 'em to sod off."

"You did?" Natia says, eyebrows raised, "Why?"

"Eh, got better things to do."

Natia laughed. "Hah! Like what?"

"Well," Oghren says, contemplating the bottom of his mug as if it held all the answers, "that depends."

"On what?"

Oghren looked straight at her, all traces of joviality gone from his voice."On what you're thinking of doing."

Silence falls between them, and Natia takes a long, hard look at the man in front of her. Oghren isn't saying anything. "Oghren, are you sure that's what you want?"

Oghren grabs another mug of ale off of a passing tray and glares. "Oh sod off, Brosca. I know what I'm doing."

"Well. You know, I was actually thinking of going back to Orzammar." Natia says carefully, gauging his reaction, "I miss Rica, and, well, House Brosca's going to need some warriors. If you're at all interested."

Oghren chuckles. "Sodding perfect. Just what I wanted, to babysit another Paragon."

Natia fought to hide the smile threatening to spread across her face. "So that's a yes?"

Oghren set down his empty ale mug and shrugged. "Eh, why not."

9.

The gates to Orzammar loom over their path, getting bigger and bigger as they move closer and closer. Over two years ago, Natia was led out, choosing the life of a Warden over the sure death facing her in court. Months ago, she had been dragged back by the chains of duty, forced to save a city that had never acknowledged her existence.

And now?

She's been elected Paragon, given her own house – and her sister, Rica of the newly created House Brosca, will be Queen. There's no limit to what they can accomplish, what they can change.

And her second, Oghren, will be standing by her side, as he has been since they first met at the entrance to the Deep Roads.

By the time they're finished, Orzammar will be like nothing Natia Brosca remembers.

And this is a very good thing.


End file.
